Four

And how can I get upset that he’s already four? What will I do when he’s five or, say, 18? I’m going to embarrass the crap out of him with my sappy ways. Poor kid.

Here he was four days old.

One year.

Two years.

Three years.

What’s he like at four?

He loves transportation of all kinds, but is beyond obsessed with trains. If you don’t speak railway, don’t even bother talking to him. Now that every engine from the Island of Sodor lives here with us, and I can finally distinguish between a steam and diesel train, I can keep up. Good thing, because Train Rehab is not cheap.

Recently, he has begun to love dinosaurs as well. This morning, he taught us all about the club-shaped tail of certain carnivores. In detail. Before my coffee. But I love it. And I’m secretly hoping the dinosaurs will unionize and take over the railway — perhaps eat the trains or just step on them.

He eats like most kids his age, which means an aversion to protein and a distinct pro-dipping/condiment position. And a love of all nugget items.

He laughs easily and yet also turns on a dime. He’s sensitive, tentative and studious. I hope he’ll grow up to the be a solid Reformed Nerd — you know, smart with a geeky-is-cool edge. I was just geeky, no edge.

Or, he can grow up however he wants. That’s fine too. As long as it doesn’t happen too quickly — that’s my only request.

This year, he shared his birthday with Easter Sunday. That’s hard to explain. Yes, it’s your birthday and the day we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. The streamers are for you. The church-going is for him. The bunny with eggs thing is just odd but there’s candy *and* birthday cake. Got it?

So we had 30 people here for the dual celebration. I love entertaining as long as everything goes smoothly. Which it never does. Then I’m sort of the maniac hostess with the eternally re-filled glass of wine.

But, overall, it went well. I did a lot to prepare but I forgot one key thing for the egg hunt.

Anything here look amiss to you?

Baskets. None. We had a classy egg hunt with plastic Target bags. I do everything with elegance.

Speaking of which, and as most moms know, it’s not really a holiday until a child vomits. Luckily my daughter allowed us to keep our family winning streak intact. Thankfully, it was nothing like the Fordeville Christmas Vomitfest — I think she was just on the swings too long. She bounced back. Her pretty new dress, not so much.

Here she is before. Don’t worry, I have no after photo.

My sister-in-law took this picture. I love it. My daughter and niece, definitely scheming about how to win the egg hunt. I think I heard one of them say “Sweep the leg! Finish him!”

And now, the moment of truth. Project Stegosaurus Birthday Cake.

I really struggled with whether or not to post this comically awful result. But, hey, I owe you guys this much.

First, the prep. Which was extensive, and may explain the end product.

Now, a sneak peek with the promised look of confusion on my son’s face (subtitle: “WTF is with my cake? Is that an armadillo?”)

Aaaand, the close up. Go easy on me. I tried. Hard.

That’s right — you can call me Cake Boss.

Or Unpaid Cake Intern. Or just Crazy Person Who Will Purchase Cupcakes Next Year.

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Comments

And I’m feeling you on the trains. My little brother was equally obsessed, and while he’s outgrown the Thomas trains (FINALLY. He played with them until he was, like, twelve), my daughter has inherited them. Joy.

Your kids are so adorable. I should send you a box filled with Easter baskets we’ve collected over the past 11 years.

The cake looks incredible. You can tell it’s homemade and I like that. Just one word of warning…with those opaque food dyes, your kids may poop in very alarming colors over the next couple of days. By then, you may have forgotten about the cake. Don’t be alarmed. 😉

I’m laughing and remembering the deep blue, New York Mets cookie incident. Having a pre-Med background is sometimes a hindrance. I was going through all the reasons why poop might be discolored and not coming up with anything that was quite that shade of blue when I remembered the cookie. We should lobby to have warnings put on the packaging. Kind of like the Homeland Security Terrorist Alert warnings, but in the colors of opaque food dye. 😉

Thanks Patty!
The truth is, he told me that he wanted a *blue* stegosaurus when I showed him the finished product (which, of course he hadn’t). I told him green was the new blue. It’s a lot nicer than calling him an ingrate at 4 🙂

We had a great Birthday Party/Eater/Earthday (love that spin too) celebration with you guys!! Thanks so much, I think things went mostly smoothe…its tough when you have certain things (or people) who you know will always work against you. Like swimming against the tide, it makes you stronger!

Thanks for sharing this! My daughter just turned four, and I’ve also been marveling at the fact that is has seemed like such a milestone – far more than 1 or 2 or 3. It’s like she’s officially not my little baby/toddler any more. She’s a KID. And while I love my KID, I also miss my sweet baby girl. Why is four so much harder?

I'm Kim -- a suburban mom fueled by a little snark, a lot of caffeine (this is often code for wine), a healthy fear of craft stores and years of pent-up Manhattan road rage. Armed with a keyboard and an addiction to storytelling. Welcome to my tiny corner of the Internet. Read more...